


Oh What a Thing to Have Done

by ryry_peaches



Series: Missing Conversations From the Creek [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e02 Love Letters, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryry_peaches/pseuds/ryry_peaches
Summary: Patrick makes things right after yelling at David and Stevie about being held up.-"David, I owe you an apology."David side-eyes him heavily and scoffs.  "It's just a coffee, Patrick."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Missing Conversations From the Creek [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604422
Comments: 25
Kudos: 253





	Oh What a Thing to Have Done

**Author's Note:**

> First thing's first: this is a series for practical purposes, but as these are codas and canon compliant (aside from perhaps a tiny detail here and there) there is absolutely no need to read _To Find the Right Words_ for this story to work.
> 
> Usually I aim to write fluff and accidentally write really syrupy emotional schmoop, but with this one I tried to write something kinda heavy and it ended up fluffy af. Go figure.
> 
> Title from Yellow by Coldplay, because I have a pathological need to name codas after songs.

"I brought you a coffee," is the first thing Patrick says to David in the morning, after Alexis lets him into the room on her way out. David, having just emerged from the bathroom, still tucking the front of his sweater into his skirt, looks over his shoulder like Patrick might mean somebody else. "I…thought I could walk you to work this morning," Patrick adds, when David doesn't say anything.

"Well, isn't that sweet," David says. His tone isn't quite sarcastic, but it's not quite sincere, either — he smiles, but it's not right. Usually he smiles at Patrick like he's trying not to, like he can't help himself. This is decidedly less warm. Nevertheless, he takes his coffee from Patrick, offering a quick, perfunctory peck on the cheek in exchange, and allows Patrick to lead him out with a hand between his shoulders.

Patrick knows that he's a quiet guy by nature, doesn't like to talk if he has nothing to say, so he's not sure David can tell that he's actively being quiet right now, trying to think of _what_ to say and how to say it.

David sips his coffee gingerly and frowns a little. "This doesn't have any cocoa in it." He takes another sip.

Patrick is _such_ an ass, and he knows it, and it's not a good feeling — he's used to being the responsible one, the reasonable one, the bigger person. The kind of guy old church ladies always call _a nice young man, it's a wonder the girls don't line up at your door._ He swallows. "David, I owe you an apology."

David side-eyes him heavily and scoffs. "It's just a coffee, Patrick."

"Not about the coffee." They're barely even out of the motel lot, on the edge of the road, and he stops and snags David by the shoulder, making him stop, too.

David looks at him like he's waiting for something he's not sure he's going to like. "Okay?"

Patrick blows out a breath. It _sucks_ being wrong, and it sucks even more to know he did wrong by David, that he treated him poorly. He's always held David accountable when he fucks up; David isn't doing the same, and Patrick knows enough of his history to know that it's because there have been precious few people in his life who he could trust to step up if he called them out, to not leave him in a dusty cloud of gaslighting and inadequacy.

David deserves better. For Patrick to treat him better. "Yesterday," he says, "I came down on you and Stevie, and I shouldn't have — I was in my head about the business, and I wasn't thinking as your partner in any sense. I didn't treat you fairly, David, and I'm sorry."

He's been holding David's eyes, and David is the one to drop his gaze, as per usual, but his lips twitch. "It's okay, I mean, the tapenade we gave him was really expensive…"

"Hey." Patrick ducks a little to catch David's eye; it's not hard to do when he's already easily three inches shorter, and David lets him look, mouth twisting. "I know that serious conversations chafe you like synthetic leather, but it's not okay, David. I treated you poorly, and you didn't deserve it, and I'm going to make it up to you."

David smiles tightly. "You're not mad at me anymore?"

Patrick shakes his head and holds out his arms uncertainly, and David sinks into them. "I'm not mad anymore. I never should have gotten mad at you and Stevie. You were just trying to get out of a bad situation." He pauses, and then, to test the mood: "I mean, the tapenade _was_ expensive…"

"Take that up with Stevie," David says, pulling back with a half-smile. He takes Patrick's hand, and they keep walking.

"You know, at my first job the rule was that if someone held us up, we were supposed to give them whatever they wanted. That our lives were worth more than whatever was in the till."

"Okay." David squeezes his hand. "You worked for my parents' company, and that does not sound like a policy my mom would pass."

"Well, your parents didn't have an official policy for robbery. My boss there was a twenty-year-old girl with a very unfortunate perm, and _she_ cared. Anyway, it never actually happened to me." He pauses for a second, watching their feet on the sidewalk, watching David sip his macchiato. "But the point is, David, you're worth more than wine or…or brie or skincare products. Even if the guy didn't have a weapon, you were cautious and you looked out for yourself and Stevie."

"That's sweet of you," David says quietly. They turn the corner towards the store; Patrick can see Twyla at a table by the window in the cafe, chatting with Bob. Patrick swings their hands between them lightly as they cross the street.

David releases Patrick's hand to unlock the door, and holds it open for him. They crowd one another behind the counter and into the back room, dropping keys and jackets, and when they come back out Patrick grabs the mist bottle from under the counter and goes to give the produce a little shower. David sets his coffee down beside the till and looks at Patrick, frowning a little.

Patrick lets the sprayer dangle at his side and tilts his head at him. "What is it, David?"

David sighs, but he's not being dramatic. He shifts his weight, looking at Patrick but not meeting his eyes. "You hurt me," he says softly.

Patrick doesn't flinch. "I know."

"You do know." David's eyes scrunch. "You came to the motel just to apologize."

"Yes," Patrick says. He wants desperately to brush it off, and with anyone else, he might; with anyone else, the apology would have been a given, would have been the least he owed.

David is special. David is someone who's been taught not to expect apologies, to expect turned tables, and Patrick knows that David would have tried to brush off the argument, the anger, tried to forget the whole incident. And that it wouldn't have brushed completely away, would have curdled into resentment between them.

So Patrick would like to say that it was nothing, but he tries not to do that, in general — not since David's birthday, when he'd pulled the receipt out of the bag and said in the softest voice, _"this is not nothing."_ The kinds of things Patrick has taken advantage of in his own life, birthday wishes and apologies and clean-cut communication, those aren't things that David has had much of. So he won't brush off his apology. He'll let it be a big thing for David.

David puts one hand down on the counter and raises his shoulder; his brows shoot up, which Patrick knows he means what he's about to say. "You should really apologize to Stevie, as well." That's fair. "I will," Patrick promises.

"Why didn't you stop in on her when you came to pick me up?" David's mood is impossible for Patrick to pin down; he's oscillating between playful and serious second-to-second, brows moving and lips quirking in ways that Patrick hasn't mapped.

"Honestly, I was just thinking about seeing you, and making things right with you," Patrick says, feeling suddenly open and soft, like David could go right for his chest right now. He won't. He never has.

(Not _never._ He remembers the olive branch situation, the knife-sharp twist in his gut when David had said _"I was ready to get back together days ago."_ He held David accountable, but he knows the story, can't hold it against him.)

David smiles, pressing his lips together and tilting his chin up. "Well," he says, like it's a full sentence. "You made things right."

"I haven't done anything," Patrick protests.

David shakes his head. "You went out of your way to acknowledge that you messed up, and you apologized." He comes around the counter and reaches for Patrick, taps delicately along his shoulders with his fingertips. Patrick takes him by the waste reflexively, holding him like a dance partner. "No one does things like that for me."

Patrick tries not to look incredulous. "So that's it?" It seems unfair that David is just letting it go.

David shrugs, wrapping his arms around Patrick's neck. "Are you going to do it again?"

"I really, _really_ hope that we don't get robbed again, but I promise that if we do I won't yell at you about it like an asshole."

David smiles and leans in to drop his forehead against Patrick's. "Then it's done with. I mean, I can't promise that I'll never bring it up again, because I have to hold _something_ over you when you're worrying too much about bottom lines —"

"Of course —"

"And I think we all know that I'm a dramatic mess —"

Patrick puts on a serious face. "Oh, we do —"

"But you're forgiven."

"I love you so much," Patrick whispers, leaning in, and he can feel David smiling into the kiss.

"Mm, more than tapenade?" David mutters, pulling back a little.

"I don't even eat the tapenade," Patrick says back, his throat scratching a bit, and David is laughing into the kiss this time.

This is what they're supposed to have, David laughing, as Patrick quietly vows endless patience into a caramel-coffee-flavored kiss. Patrick hates being wrong and he _hates_ having hurt David, but he really does love making up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! I can't wait to write more David/Patrick. That said, this story, despite being shorter, was a bit harder to write than _To Find the Right Words and Breathe in Between,_ because it's easier for me to get into David's head than Patrick's. Writing from Patrick's viewpoint is a fun challenge that I'm excited to tackle again!
> 
> Find my Schitt tumblr @ loveburnsbrighter and/or my main tumblr @ fourgetregret :^)


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